


Amara

by CassoYut



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, First Crush, Rambling, Short fluff for fluff's sake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 08:00:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6276160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassoYut/pseuds/CassoYut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nialt thinks about why she loves Amara, a Nemoran refugee in Kwyll.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amara

Amara is not brown. Her skin is the lightest color I've ever seen and looks like the withered grass you find under a crate that's been left in the yard for a few days. She is absolutely beautiful.

My skin is brown. The rich color of freshly turned soil, fertile earth. I think I'm beautiful and hopefully, one day, I'll look just like my mama, strong and soft and warm. My body is a work of curves from my fat cheeks to my overly abundant breasts and broad hips. Too many curves, obvious and subtle, for me to ever count or catalog.

Amara isn't like that. Everywhere I curve out she inverts. I heard my eldest brother, Eythil, describe people like that as "gaunt" but that's an ugly word. I think she's just a compilation of angles; harsh, sharp, and straight. As much as I want to feed Amara until she's as round and plump as me, there's nothing wrong with how everything she wears hangs from her frame like a sheet or the hollow-cheeked smile she gives.

I would stop breathing if I knew Amara's smile would be the last thing I saw. Her entire face lights up like the noonday sun and the skin around her bluish-grayish-green eyes crinkles. 

And her eyes! They're the most amazing thing I've seen, colourful as a bird's feathers. They make my heart sing, just like a songbird, whenever I see them too. The first time I met her, cowering behind the fragile figure of her auntie, I wondered if my eyes were ugly. 

They aren't, of course. They aren't that pretty either, honestly. My brother, Leit, has gorgeous eyes, the darkest brown you can get this side of black. Mine are nearly the same brown as my skin only a bit darker, a lot shinier. Two raindrops in a tilled field.

I wondered a lot of things the day Amara came. Why was a Nemoran girl all the way here in Kwyll? Someone told me once that for every god the Nemoran's had they had a thousand wars to match. Kwyll doesn't have wars, aside from market feuds or trade disagreements, but I know those don't really count. We only have the One God, too. I thought that it was just one of those weird old sayings, like how a fox's tail meant a trip to market or a deer never strays far from the yard, but then Amarise, Amara's aunt, told me about Nemora. I didn't know somewhere could be so different than here.

My favorite stories are about the Nemoran gods. Amarise knows more temple-stories than I could ever hope to learn. And all the gods! A god for every word in the Nemoran language and then some. Amara worships one of the little goddesses of spring and Amarise a god of healthy births. I worship the One God. Only heathens have more than one.

Except Amara isn't a heathen and neither is Amarise; none of the Nemoran's fleeing the latest war are. They're all clever and kind and interesting... I wonder if they think I'm a heathen? I'll ask Amarise next time she comes over for dinner.

They visit for dinner every other night and when they aren't here, we're there. Nemora has a famine going on (I never knew people could honestly not have food) and most of the refugees are made up of the same harsh angles as Amara. Like I said, there's nothing wrong with how she looks, except it does worry me a little. If her bones didn't poke out so much, I would feel a lot better.

Which is why I'm walking to Amarise's house, thinking of Amara and wondering if she likes sweets and if she misses Nemora and if she secretly likes me as much as I like her.

Not likely. Amara likes cats more than people. All the local strays flock around her and the meanest tomcat sleeps happy and content on her lap. Kwyll has strays in abundance, so I'm sure she's ecstatic. It makes me happy, at least, to watch the little smiles she has when she half-dozes off, lap full of cat.

Amarise's house is a renovated goat shed a few hills away from mine. It's tiny and the roof makes an awful noise when the wind blows, but Amarise says it's better than her old place. Amara doesn't talk much about Nemora. Amarise tells she hasn't had to flee before, that it's always hardest the first time around. When I asked how many times Amarise has had to, she told me she'd lost count. I hope this is the last time. I hope they don't go back.

When I get there, Amara is sitting against a crooked fence post, cooing at a scraggly cream colored kitten. It watches her suspiciously from narrow, amber eyes and edges toward her. 

Not two minute later, the kitten is curled by her feet purring. I can't help but laugh. Amara looks up, meets my eyes, and smiles a tiny, surprised smile at me, like she's glad to see me.

I grin back like the fool she makes me, caught up in the birdsong of my heart. _Merciful blood_ , am I thrilled to see her.


End file.
